The Smallest Thing
by nazzymcc
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a little thing to give you a reason to try.


"I suppose it cannot be helped, but I had hoped to be on the road tomorrow," Jaheira said irritably. Khalid pursed his lips slightly - a fairly mild expression of contention, Maera thought - but the druid blinked at her husband as if he just had made a crude gesture at her.

"I p-promised," he retorted stoutly. "We've been here nearly a month. It's the l-least we can do."

"I know," Jaheira sighed.

They sat at a smallish table near the center of the Friendly Arm Inn's kingdom-sized common room, Maera and Imoen, and their two new acquaintances. After the exhausting, nerve-jangling three day trip over open country, it had been such a relief be back behind _walls_. (And the less that was said of that deranged mage they'd met on the way and his terrifying little sidekick, the better.) Relieving too to find Khalid and Jaheira, there at the Inn, just as Gorion had said they would be. It was one last promise he'd kept. And Maera was grateful for them – grateful for the presence of two people had at least had some idea what they were doing, for the sense of direction they provided, and for the thin thread of continuity she could cling to. They had known Gorion, and called him friend for decades. It wasn't much, but it was all she had.

Jaheira obviously chafed to head south to Nashkel, and Maera was happy to follow her lead. But happy was probably too strong a word, if truth be told. Un-indifferent was closer to the mark. She wasn't miserable. She hadn't been taken with fits of weeping. She could sleep at night, when she felt like it. But the act of feeling was something she'd had to work up to. She should be overwhelmed by the hugeness of the world, and yet it seemed to come at her with blunted knives, as if she were wrapped in a suit of lamb's wool. With no direction of her own, following Jaheira's lead seemed sensible, if difficult to stir much excitement for.

But Bentley Mirrorshade, the great Inn's proprietor-in-chief, had complained in Khalid's hearing of a gang of hobgoblins harassing travelers approaching from the north, and Khalid had offered to look into the matter. And in the morning, they would. So the quartet finished their meal, Jaheira and Khalid excusing themselves shortly thereafter. Before departing, Jaheira reminded Maera and Imoen that beds should be sought at a reasonable hour, because dawn would come swiftly, whether they paid it any mind or not. They mumbled acquiesce; they had both been struck by the notion that that was just how the druid was.

"Mae?" Imoen whispered across the now half-deserted table. "Are you-?"

"Don't worry about me, Im." Maera stood. "I'm gonna go upstairs, okay?" She didn't want for Imoen's response.

Halfway to the base of the wide, shallow staircase, she heard a voice. "Miss?" Thinking it addressed any of a number of other females in the common room, she kept walking. "Miss!" She turned in confusion, facing a pale, rather flustered looking woman in a dark dress.

"Um…can I…help you?"

"I overheard your friend talking to Bentley up at the bar," the woman said. "I know you don't know me, and you have no reason to do me a favor, but if you're going to do something about those hobgoblins, I have to ask." Maera shifted uncertainly, but what could it hurt to hear her out? Since she wasn't walking away, the woman gave a relieved sigh and continued. "They ambushed me and the others I was traveling with three days ago. Took our purses and jewelry…anything light and valuable, really. I don't care about the money, but they did take something I would really like to get back. A little ring, carved out of flamedance. It's tiny…I can't even wear it on my pinkie anymore, but I've had it since I was a child, and it means a lot to me. I wore it on a chain around my neck, and they just ripped it away. So if you could get it back…I'd be very grateful."

Maera blinked slowly at the woman, and suddenly a vision swam before her eyes: a hobgoblin reaching for her neck and pulling away the necklace she wore, the gift from Gorion she had never removed since its giving. She found herself nodding without even really considering her answer. "If we find it…I will."

She smiled broadly, taking one of Maera's hands in hers. "Thank you. So much." She laughed suddenly. "I'm sorry – I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Joia."

"My name is Maera." She extricated her hand slowly. "And, uh…you're welcome. Hopefully I'll have some good news for you tomorrow."

It was different, fighting like this instead of the pell-mell, panic-soaked scrapes they'd gotten into on the way to the Inn. Every encounter with the denizens of the Coast Way, the wolves and the gibberlings and the xvarts, had only served to remind Maera just how different fighting for one's life was from sword drills in the Keep, how teeth and claws and arrowheads only needed one good strike to end it all.

But Jaheira read the land. "You see there?" she asked, pointing with her staff. "That rise is higher than it appears. That is how they catch travelers unawares. We will circle about, and we will take them by surprise."

Maera swallowed, nodding, and Khalid patted her arm, warmly and with great care. "J-just follow my lead," he said, his smile encouraging. "You w-will be fine."

So it was over almost before she realized it had begun. As Jaheira had directed, they burst upon the unwary hobgoblins and made short work of the band. Maybe it was practice. Maybe she was getting used to the stinging shot of adrenaline that surged through her. But she noticed things now, like how long a halberd strike took, how her mind provided a solution (_get in close – aim low)_, and how she could actually convince her body to do it. It wasn't fun, but it had potential, and it was the first time in days she'd truly felt alive.

And when it was over, Jaheira eyed the stash of the hobs' ill-gotten gains. She shook her head. "Gods know if the owners of these goods still live." Imoen thought about that, her expression that of one following a statement through to its logical conclusion.

"Then it won't matter if we-"

"No, Imoen, we will not." The druid straightened her shoulders and began gathering the sacks of coin together, Khalid immediately going to her aid. Imoen made a face at her back.

"Oh, who's gonna notice if we just skim a little?" she muttered to Maera, but her friend was distracted by the leather purse Jaheira had just draped over Khalid's shoulder. It was stamped with the same crest she'd seen embroidered on Joia's kirtle the night before.

"Let me help," she said, grabbing three or four heavily-laden bags from the pile, and the one on Khalid's shoulder while she was at it. She pulled it open, pawing through its pockets and compartments with growing disappointment. It wasn't there. Joia had said it was tiny , so it could be anywhere, but it would have been so nice to have an easy win. Something she could point to and say 'That went exactly the way I wanted it to.' She glanced about at her companions. "Has anyone seen a-"

A glint near her left foot caught her eye. There it was! It must have rolled out while she was upending the bag, nearly lost in her haste. _Let that be a lesson,_ she heard Gorion's voice say, and her throat tightened as she snatched the small ring from the ground. "You alright, Mae?" Imoen asked, brow furrowed. Maera tucked the ring into the pocket on her right sleeve.

"I'm good, Im."

She waited until she could approach Joia alone, while the others were busy discussing with Bentley the best way to redistribute the hobgoblins' loot. She wasn't sure why she felt compelled to do this privately, out of their sight and knowledge. Perhaps it was because Joia had asked her, not them. That made it her responsibility.

She didn't know quite what to say, so she simply extended her hand, the ring on her palm. Joia covered her mouth, eyes wide, her trembling fingers reaching out for the small treasure. "Thank the Lady," she whispered. "And thank you. I know it's just a little thing, but it means a lot." She enclosed the ring in her fist. "I'm afraid I can't give you anything for it."

Maera's first instinct was to laugh. What did she need money for? But then she realized that these days, she actually needed money for a lot of things, because there were no free beds and bread out in the world, and that thought made her chest contract, like the whole of Faerun was pressing on it. Gorion could have kept that pressure at bay, but he was gone. He would have known how to banish it. He always did, always, and without him, she wasn't sure what she was doing, or why, or for how long, and -

She forced herself to take a deep breath and focus on Joia's face. She looked so happy, and no coins could replicate that. Maybe this adventuring thing might not be so bad. "Don't worry about it. You're welcome."

She turned away, with a small nod, and nearly walked right into Khalid. He smiled at her, a bright, tentative expression. "I-it's a good feeling, isn't it?" She looked askance, embarrassed for some reason she couldn't explain, and his smile grew gentler. "Gorion w-would be proud of you."

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "Do you think so?" He looked surprised.

"Y-yes! He was a g-good man, after all." He sighed, his forehead creasing sadly. "I-it is such a shame."

The lump was back. "Yeah." Her eyes dropped, but she wasn't really looking at anything, just the wood floor through a film of tears. She felt a hand brush her shoulder cautiously, and looked back at Khalid. His mouth moved, lips compressing, fighting a losing battle with the words. But what his voice could not express, she saw in his eyes. It was the little things, they said, because the world _was_ too big if you tried to find its meaning all in one piece. She wiped her eyes and nodded. "So, um...is this what it's like? Adventuring, I mean?"

He brightened again. "This is the g-good part."

"And the bad part?"

"Y-you've already seen it."

Her brow furrowed. It had been barely more than a week since she left Candlekeep; what could he mean by that? Then she remembered the rain and the mud, the armored man with death in his voice and Gorion telling her to run. She swallowed again. "Oh." Khalid squeezed her shoulder gently, and she took a deep breath. "I think I like this better." She glanced back at Joia, who lifted her drink in a small salute. It was all a numbers game, she thought, and as long as she could keep the balance tilted to this side, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

It would be what Gorion would want.

She reached up, covering Khalid's hand with hers. "Just...remind me from time to time, will you? About Gorion?"

He inclined his head gravely and said, without a trace of stammer, "It would be my pleasure."


End file.
